


at your mercy.

by nedstark



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Choking, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Gentle Dom Will Graham, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Sub Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 21:44:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15470730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nedstark/pseuds/nedstark
Summary: Will chokes out Hannibal with one hand and jerks him off with the other.





	at your mercy.

**Author's Note:**

> a quick little something to help power through a major writing slump

“Harder please, if you would.” Hannibal manages to say around the tight hand Will has gripped around his bruised neck, with an air of polite nonchalance Will thinks he has no right to have right now.

It won’t last for long. Will raises an eyebrow but complies, leaning more of his weight down against Hannibal’s throat with one hand and tightening the slick fist he has on Hannibal’s dick with the other. “You remember the signal?”

Hannibal’s eyes flutter shut, his sweaty back arching slightly off the dark stretch of dining room table under Will’s twin touches on his body. He swallows hard and clears his throat and it takes him a moment before he can speak. “It won’t be necessary but yes, I remember.”

“Show me.”

Eyes open and narrowed in annoyance, Hannibal draws up his left knee and slowly and loudly slams his foot three times on the mahogany tabletop.

“Good.” Will murmurs. He lets go of Hannibal’s throat to brush his hair back from his forehead. Hannibal smiles warmly, closed mouthed and closed eyes and follows blindly after Will’s balming touch. “Use it if you need to. I won’t be pleased if you blackout or get hurt because of your pride.”

Before Hannibal can retort, Will smoothes the flat of his hand down Hannibal’s bare chest and belly, fingertips combing through the greying hair that dusts his lean body. He repeats the slow motion again and again, just taking his time to enjoy the shape and feel of him, simple adoration in his sure, sweeping touches. Hannibal’s chest heaves lightly under Will’s palm and his toes curl when Will gives the hand wrapped around his dick a few sharp twists.

Will hums a considering noise and tilts his head, drinking up the sight of him. “I’m actually pretty surprised you’re not draped in pomegranate seeds and various animal bones right now. Candles and incense and shit.”

Hannibal breathes a faint laugh, teeth gleaming in the dark. “That is a new level of narcissism even for me, don’t you think?”

“Bullshit. Being dinner _and_ the show? I wouldn’t underestimate you on that and neither would you.” Will says with a wry twist of his mouth, thumbing the leaking tip of Hannibal’s dick and swiping at a few stray droplets of sweat on the table. “Not even a tablecloth?”

Hannibal’s head drops back with a dull thud but he doesn’t take his eyes off Will’s hands, watching with a possessive, greedy glint in his eye. “Which one would you have me choose?”

“The red one.” Will says immediately and he can picture it just as quick too, he blinks and the scene flashes behind his eyelids like a snapshot of an old memory. Hannibal spread out on his beloved red tablecloth that matches his eyes in one long obscene stretch of naked, sweaty skin, writhing with his hands tied and bound above his head with thick, bright gold rope looped and running parallel to him beneath the table to bind his feet together at the other end of the table too. Pliant and pushy and eager and happily at Will’s complete mercy.

Hannibal huffs mildly, dragging Will out of his pleasant fantasy. “I am offended you think I own a _red_ tablecloth. I’ve told you before it’s _carmine_ , Will.”

Maybe a gag too.

Will rolls his eyes and loosely wraps his hand around Hannibal’s throat again. That gets him sudden submissive silence and an enthusiastic buck of hips, Hannibal thrusting up hard into Will’s fist just once before restraining himself and stilling, lying flat and waiting for whatever Will gives him. It almost makes Will smile.

Will bears his full weight on Hannibal’s throat this time and watches Hannibal tense up like a taut bowstring, every muscle in his body straining beneath his skin as he clutches at the edges of the table. Will knows that as much as Hannibal loves this it takes a lot of conscious effort for him not to fight back on pure lifelong instinct and just lie there and take it.

It makes something in his chest tighten and flare, something like pride, something like love. With the erratic pounding of Hannibal’s pulse beneath his thumb, Will leans over him and down and kisses Hannibal’s open mouth. Hannibal clutches at him immediately, fisting two handfuls of the back of Will’s plaid shirt and crushing him closer.

Hannibal chokes on a strangled moan that sounds almost like a sob when Will pumps his hand fast, jerking him off with short, hard strokes. He kisses Will with all the desperation of a dying man and with the very last of his breath in his lungs, tongue sliding deeply into Will’s mouth, sensuous and sharp and oh so sweet.

Will breaks the kiss just as soon as it started and steps back abruptly. Still tugging languidly, Will keeps a firm hand on Hannibal’s chest as he gasps for air, pressing him down and giving something to ground him.

Hannibal gazes up at him with almost palpable adoration and weakly encircles Will’s wrist, lying tense under one hand and painfully hard in Will’s other. The usual carefully styled fringe of his hair is plastered to his forehead and falling into his dark eyes. He’s flushed and panting, teardrops leaking from the corner of his eyes and he’s practically _shining_ with sweat and he’s the most terribly beautiful thing Will has ever seen.

“You’d look good on marble.” Will distantly hears himself tell Hannibal right as the thought trickles into his mind like cloying honey. “An offering to the gods on a stone altar.”

“A sacrifice.” Hannibal’s jaw drops open on a ragged gasp. His dick throbs in Will’s fist and Will knows he’s close. He’s also infinitely glad he already shrugged off his jacket and loosened his tie before they started this, he doesn’t want Hannibal knowing just how much this is getting to him too. As much as he’s in power here, this isn’t about himself tonight.

“You’re almost there, you’re dripping.” Will murmurs, intentionally keeping a neutral inflection and a clinical touch. “You’re being so good for me. C’mon, baby, I’ve got you.”

“ _Will_.” Hannibal chokes suddenly, pleading, nails gouging deep lines into his pristine wooden table. Will stares down at him, watching with an unfazed expression even when Hannibal arches right off the table sharp enough for Will to vaguely feel concern about his spine snapping.

Time seems to stop around them, the world holding its breath as Will wrings Hannibal dry, milking every drop of him. With a deep, satisfied groan Hannibal collapses back against the table, melting into a puddle of pleasured bliss.

“Will.” He repeats in a warm, raw voice and beckons Will closer.

Will doesn’t even bother kicking his shoes off, he climbs right up onto the table behind Hannibal and drags his limp, heavy body into his arms, hugging him close to his chest.

Will cups at Hannibal’s jaw and neck and offers him the mess on his hand. Hannibal latches onto the meat of Will’s thumb with his teeth and sucks his hand clean, laving at Will’s palm and fingers with the wicked flat of his wicked tongue.

Pressing a kiss to Hannibal’s forehead, Will asks. “Okay?”

Hannibal sighs contentedly and stretches like a cat in Will’s embrace. “Yes, I’m okay.”

“You did good.”

“Thank you, I know.”

Will snorts. He presses tentative fingertips to the matching prints littering Hannibal’s throat. They look good. _Really_ good. Hannibal wears and bears Will’s claiming marks like royalty would wear a crown. Will watches transfixed. He can’t seem to look away

“My life in your hands,” Hannibal says thickly, ear pressed to Will’s chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. He reaches an unsteady hand up, fingers sliding into the spaces between Will’s spread fingers. “As it always should be.”

This time, it _does_ make Will smile.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading <3


End file.
